Where Brains and Brawn Collide
by pistachio gelato
Summary: A little bar talk can go a long way when a dragon tattoo and wandering hands become involved. - A Charlie/Hermione story in response to TE's September Challenge.


**Exclaiming Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter!

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><p><strong>Where Brains and Brawn Collide<strong>

It had finally happened. Ginny was turning twenty one.

When Hermione had explained to her how in some of the Muggle world this birthday finally let loose the ability to drink alcohol, Ginny decided to model her party after it (Hermione was glad that she didn't tell it to her when she had turned eighteen, else risk blowing the entire venue up). The redhead had even convinced Hermione to buy bottles and bottles of Muggle liquors. Hermione knew she could never go to that store again after the look the clerk had given her at the sheer amount of booze she was buying.

Hermione looked over to the birthday girl, who was currently taking tequila body shots off of Luna, Harry and Ron nearby looking ready to pass out from all the blood in their faces (or somewhere a little more south). Ginny bit in to the lime hard before taking Harry's mouth in replacement.

Even though Ginny was barley in her twenties, she was already so accomplished. She had been in professional Quidditch straight out of Hogwarts, and then had married Harry last Spring. Just the other day, after Hermione was getting over the humility of buying enough alcohol to fill a swimming pool, a kid had asked for Ginny's autograph. Not Hermione's, who had personally destroyed a bit of Voldemort's soul.

At that thought, Hermione sighed. What had she done since the end of the war? Sure, she got the highest NEWTs, only to still get bogged down in the Ministry grind. The most surprising thing in her days now was finding typos. So much for the magic in this world. Maybe she would switch to the joke shop; Ron did say the twins weren't so stingy in pay as they were in discounts.

If there was one highlight in her misery it was that the party was at a high-end hotel with an open bar. Open bars were always open to her.

"Hello there," a voice said, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione lethargically turned to see a vibrant head of red sit aside of her, but none of the Weasleys she had previously thought about. Charlie watched as she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked baldly.

"Oh, nothing much. Just to celebrate my little, and _only_ may I remind you, sister's birthday," he said with a rumbling chuckle. It died when he looked over to said-sister only to see her still lip-locked with Harry.

"But you never get out of Romania," Hermione said in awe, thankfully getting him to turn away from the PDA-infested couple back to her.

"The dragons are settling down since summer, their mating season because of the heat, is over. Now that we don't have to worry about males sneaking in on females, only to get burnt to bits, I'm allowed to have a life."

"Don't pretend like you don't enjoy it," Hermione snorted. "Your brothers keep me wildly informed of all your escapades."

"I _am_ an amazing conqueror," Charlie said with waggling eyebrows.

"I thought Fred and George were the only ones who joked," she said after a loud bout of laughter. "I guess I don't know that much about you, huh?" she asked quietly. They had lapsed in to something of a conversation so easily she had forgotten she could count the amount of times she'd seen him on one hand. Yet Hermione had heard enough about Charlie to feel like she was friends with him along with the rest of the Weasley Clan.

"That can easily change," Charlie said with a slight smile. "Tell me about yourself, Hermione Jean Granger."

"Let's see... twenty-two, soon to be twenty-three next month, single, and the only thing I really have to look forward to anymore is getting another promotion." She shot back the little remaining drink in her glass, winced at the burning sensation and finally turned back to the redhead. Again, how extremely easy it was to reveal everything to him. There was something to say about chatting with a near-stranger in a high end hotel bar slightly drunk. "Your turn."

"Thirty this December and single as well, what coincidence!" he said with a crooked grin, only one dimple showing. "I've had the same job my entire life (-"Like people are lining up for it," Hermione snipped-) where most of my time is spent getting burnt. I wasn't some great war hero like you, and Mum probably thinks I'm the least accomplished of her children, too, especially since I have yet to get married and spit out more Weasleys. And yet here I am, grinning. Must be the company."

Hermrione looked down, shameful of her self pity but still pleasantly surprised at how trusting he was.

"I must be having an early-life crisis," she sighed.

"I had that once," Charlie sighed; "Thought I was in love. Terrible mistake with that."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in genuine interest.

Charlie sighed again dramatically and crossed his thick arms. "She tried to kill me."

"No," Hermione instantly gasped.

"Yep. Went straight for my heart with those talons of hers," he said as he shook his head. "Barely got out of there before she began raining fire on me."

Hermione's sympathy stopped right there, realizing he wasn't using metaphors. "You're talking about a dragon, aren't you?" she asked dryly.

"Of course," he said blandly.

She should be frowning at him, but all she found herself able to do was laugh.

"At least you have interesting companions. All I have is Crookshanks," Hermione said with a returning grimace. "You should hear Ginny make fun of me as already being 'That Cat Lady.' Recently she's taken to trying to set me up with one of you Weasley boys."

"Oh yeah, Percy told me about last week and the faked meeting only you two showed up for, only to get locked in," Charlie said, chuckling like a little boy and not the broad-shouldered man he was.

"He's nice, but... too similar to me," Hermione sighed. "Although me and Ron are opposites and that didn't work out."

"Stick to opposites."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked just as quickly as his statement.

"You're smart. Why don't you figure it out?" he said as he leaned forward.

At the new angle, where he was now looking up at her with gleaming blue eyes, Hermione was given a good view of his chest through his un-buttoned collar. She was so distracted by the uncountable freckles and tuft of red hair that she couldn't give heed to what his words were heavily hinting at. She was further entrapped with his chest when she saw a flash of black streak across it.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing.

"A manly chest, thank you very much," he asked, clearly amused by her sudden shock at his revealed skin.

"No, something moved."

"Oh, that's just my tattoo."

"'_Just_ your tattoo?' It moved!"

He gave a noncommittal shrug before he pulled away his collar even more. It was a simple Celtic design, all in black, that looked more of a stylistic representation of a dragon than a realistic one. Hermione watched as the woven patterns moved, as if the creature wasn't just ink and was breathing. It seemed to feel it was being stared at, as it looked up at Charlie before moving to fly around his neck. It circled a few times before settling snugly around it.

"Does your Mum know?" she asked, eyes still fixated on the dragon. Just when she thought she had this world down, something like this would rear it's head (dragon head in this instance).

"You wouldn't dare," he said in heart-stilling fear. Fred and George had told him how she'd threatened them in seventh year by writing to Mum; yet for her to do it against him, who was seven years his junior, was a little disarming. She really was a feisty woman, and Charlie had to stomp down on a heartbeat that attempted to elevate at the guesses (and flashing images) of what other things she could get fired-up about.

"I wouldn't in this case," she said as she finally looked back up to his face. "I see how she reacts to long hair alone. If I told her you have a bewitched dragon tattoo..."

"It would be a kill the flooer situation," Charlie agreed with a slow nod.

"Don't you mean messenger?"

"You're not an owl," he said with a furrowed brow.

"Let's not bother about it," Hermione said before rolling her eyes with a breath of laughter.

They sat in silence then and Hermione half expected him to jump away since their conversation had so blatantly died. She noted some friends waving her over, but she waved them off; she found herself wanting to sit with Charlie. He had turned out much more interesting than she could have expected. Hermione found she wouldn't mind if they talked some more too much. If only she could think of a good subject. Her inability to make small talk made Hermione felt like a fool, unable to approach the built dragon-trainer, and returned to sipping her drink.

When she chanced a glimpse at him yet again, she saw the dragon had moved from curling around his neck to the end of his hand sitting on the bar. Hermione had failed to notice how close his hand had inched towards her, as she watched the dragon watching her.

Hermione reached forward and petted it gently, barely holding down the urge to coo as its tail lazily flicked back and forth over a freckled forearm.

"You do know it's not a real dragon? That you're petting _me_ right now?"

She looked up in slight horror when she realized Charlie was right. Hermione expected him to look a little ruffled or offended from her petting him at a hotel bar without permission in the middle of a drunken birthday celebration. Yet he was just grinning devilishly down at her, clearly amused. Hermione looked down and saw the dragon had shot away; now she really was just grooming his hand.

"Where'd it go?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could, resisting the urge to bolt in a similar fashion as her cheeks felt hot.

"I'd be honored to show you in a less public spot," Charlie said lightly, yet Hermione thought she heard a deep growl at the end.

Hermione jumped on the stool in shock. She blamed the drinks (the twins had insisted on bartending) as she finally came to the conclusion that Charlie was inviting her on. Older, chiseled, tanned and handsome was choosing to set his eyes on her. Maybe she should feel wary, but she couldn't kill her elation.

As if his statement wasn't being forward enough, he put a hand on her knee closest to him. His calloused fingers played on the fringe of her dress before dipping under it. Hermione felt her breathing hike at the sensation of his impossibly large hands against her thigh. She told herself to keep breathing and not mess this up before smiling up at his predatory grin with amusement. It seemed this party had finally taken a turn for the better.

"How chivalrous of you, Charles," she said as her grin became sultry and she turned to face him more. His hand kept a grip on her skin despite the move.

In answer, he slid his hand slowly up until the pad of his thumb brushed against her hip bone. Hermione shivered at the friction only one of his hands made against her skin. Her brain began calculating how much pleasure she could achieve when other parts of him became involved. Hermione barely held down a primal moan at the possible sums. To think she had not had a one-on-one conversation with this man before; she should have done it years ago.

"A little to the left," she whispered over to him, the two so close now her lips brushed against his ear. There was definitely something in the drinks that was giving her this courage. Either that, or she really wanted to see that enticing tattoo without the barrier of his clothing.

Charlie blinked at her smartly, and then down at his hand. She must have spoken wrong, because this was Hermione Granger and to go left would mean his hand would be sitting on her-

"Sweet baby Merlin," Charlie said in a hush as Hermione took his hand and moved it to sit directly between her legs herself. Sometimes she was not the patient, level-headed type of girl everyone believed her to be. Right now, when a very attractive redhead was gasping at the shock of her body flush against his, was one of those times.

"Now, about that tattoo," she whispered across to him, her lips now brushing his temple. "I think my hotel room will suffice?"

He growled again as he pressed his fingers down and felt the lace and promising heat beneath. When Hermione arched against him from the touch, he decided not to tell her the dragon was back on the hand sitting snugly above her knickers. It would spoil all the fun.

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><p><strong>An Ending Note<strong>: This is my attempt at the Twin Exchange's September challenge; I thought I'd go a light, humorous go the first time. The theme was _Ginny's Birthday Party _and chose _Hermione/Charlie, a hotel,_ and the quotes "_You wouldn't dare_" and "_A little to the left._" If you liked it, make sure to vote for it at the Twin Exhchange's profile (opens September 20th, closes October 10th). After you review, of course!


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